


new york isn't new york without you, love

by inmoonlightigetseasick



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, MJ Goes Corporate, Post-Break Up, Some post-break up shenangians by two people who are bad at being broken up, just insert your own imagining of their high school shenanigans set before this, not necessarily a sequel to my other fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 14:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11853309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmoonlightigetseasick/pseuds/inmoonlightigetseasick
Summary: She’s taking it all in. The Stark building. The polished chrome and leather that holds every corner of it together. The shining secrecy of its walls, and the incredulity of her inside them. Her office, a modest size, is still bigger than any bedroom she’s ever had in her life.Even her chair spins as smooth as a luxury she never expected. She’s older now, even more practiced at schooling her expressions, keeping her cool. But she’s in this room alone but for one ridiculous superhero with whom she’d fallen in love so long ago.





	new york isn't new york without you, love

**new york isn’t new york without you, love**

 

_I have lost a hero_

_I have lost a friend_

_But for you, darling_

_I’d do it all again._

 

She’s taking it all in. The Stark building. The polished chrome and leather that holds every corner of it together. The shining secrecy of its walls, and the incredulity of her inside them. Her office, a modest size, is still bigger than any bedroom she’s ever had in her life. 

 

Even her chair spins as smooth as a luxury she never expected. She’s older now, even more practiced at schooling her expressions, keeping her cool. But she’s in this room alone but for one ridiculous superhero with whom she’d fallen in love so long ago. 

 

It’s really been so long that she doesn’t bother hiding her awe in front of him. 

 

He’s staring at her, beaming, boyish, and achingly familiar in baggy civilian clothes. She grants him a wry smile in return.

 

“To think, I started out as your teenage sidekick.”

 

“Yeah, I mean, you really sold out.”

 

“Oh I learned from the best.” Of course, she is speaking to her friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man gone full-blown Avenger from under her nose. 

 

He has the grace to look guilty.

 

“If anyone was going to get me to sign myself over to the superhero industrial complex, it was going to be you, Peter. Let’s not kid ourselves. What’s that old saying about never forgetting your first?” 

 

His face flushes pink.

 

“Superhero, I mean,” she smiles, taking pity on his mortification. 

 

“It’s not like you made it easy,” he counters, looking away. 

 

He’s right, she hadn’t. 

 

After an unceremonious parting once they’d graduated from Midtown High— Peter had nearly succeeded in blocking out all the awful memories of the decay of their high-school relationship, the fights, the missed dates, his unsubtle, abject misery— there had been guilty radio silence while she bounced between New England Ivy Leagues. College had eventually ended despite her best efforts to prolong it with grad school, and it had brought her back to New York, which inevitably brought her back to him. 

 

There had been a terse confrontation in an alley, because of course, even after years, that was his style. MJ’s power walk through Manhattan had been cut short by an arm sharply pulling her into the alleyway, another hand had come up to ward off her instinctive scream. But she didn't scream, immediately recognizing that cartoonish red mask. She had been irritated, her hands immediately jumping to his throat to pull it off. 

 

“Man I miss the days people just texted when they wanted to meet up,” she spat, annoyed, nearly wringing the mask in her hands.

 

“Maybe I would have done that if I had your number anymore,” his voice mirrored her irritation as he spoke to her, even though his chest was heaving, his hair was a wreck, and he looked at her sadder than she’d ever seen him. 

 

“I would have given it to you,” she began with vitriol that dissipated instantly, “if I wasn’t a complete idiot.” 

 

She coaxed a small smile from him, absolutely nothing to the megawatt grins she remembered, but still it was progress. She had become used to the infinitesimal successes in her line of work. But, she was never going to be used to wasting time.

 

“I’ve really missed you,” she blurted, “I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough.” 

 

He looked at her, after all these years, somehow still surprised at her bluntness. His smile grew bigger. “It - It’s okay. For now. I’m sorry, I didn’t even say hi I just kind of grabbed you, so, uh, hi.” 

 

Something in her had immediately softened. In fact, just at the sight of him, this impossible warmth began to flood every inch of her, coming up to flush pink against her tan skin. Even after the years apart, the stalwart denial, the very deliberate efforts to get over him, she clearly wasn’t successful. 

 

She wasn’t stupid enough to hope that things would go back to the way they had been, their clumsy teenage affection. She knew there had been people while she was away, for him and definitely for her, people who had commanded that kind of attention that both of them had freely given, never thinking of the other. 

 

But that feeling had persisted, for MJ at least. 

 

So, for nothing else to do, she stepped closer to him, and pulled him into a tentative hug, feeling a rush of relief at his arms replied, circling around her and pulling her closer. 

 

She rested her head against his shoulder, speaking softly, “Want to go catch up?” And she remembered how he had shivered, even now, sitting across from him at her vast Stark Industries desk. 

 

Peter is trying his best to keep his cool, but let’s be honest, he’s never been good at hiding what he’s feeling, it just shows up on his face. Right now his expression mirrors the one MJ has directed at her surroundings. His awe is entirely directed at _her_. 

 

“Stop staring, Parker,” she scolds him, her back turned as she looks out her floor-to-ceiling windows at the industry at work outside. He doesn’t look away. 

 

He’s enchanted and puzzled at the view before him. The din of machinery sounding over the plush interior of the office isn’t exactly where he’d pictured the grassroots, wild-haired, anti-establishment firecracker he’d once fallen in love with, but she somehow looks right at home. 

 

He’s trying to stop freaking out at the prospect of them working together now, working together _again,_ he should say. He had missed her like crazy every single year they had been apart. He doesn’t think he’ll hate anything like he hates the Ivy League system for keeping her away from him. He thinks these selfish thoughts for himself, knowing Harvard had been good for her, and knowing that grad school at Stanford had been good for her, complain as she might about the California weather. Hell, MIT had been good for him, even though he was doing the superhero thing nearly full time now, save for a part-time gig, which was still in the Stark Industries labs. It was safe to say he had somewhat sold his soul to Stark Industries. MJ did nothing to reserve her judgement, although, it was her who had most recently signed a Stark contract. 

 

Peter is conflicted. As much as he resents Harvard and Stanford for keeping MJ away from him, he can still admit that those big names came close to deserving MJ’s thoughts and her contributions. 

 

He just doesn’t know if Stark does. 

 

“Have you had your meeting with Mrs— Uh— Pepper yet?” Even in his twenties, he is still getting used to this calling-adults-by-their-first-name thing. 

 

“Yeah,” she says, her gaze distracted, “She just sort of gave me the overall orientation, expectations for the job, the usual.” 

 

“What did you think of her?” Peter winces, anticipating the impassioned “critiques” she had had of her husband back in the day. Tony had been persona non grata when he had still been middling his way to Avenger status, coming home with scrapes and bruises. Sometimes she would team up with May filling the apartment with some of the most creative insults he had ever heard, to this day. Pepper had survived the brunt of the insults, MJ had never met her but had held a grudging respect for her despite the myriad problems she had found with the company.

 

“She’s great, real powerhouse” she says, her voice an octave too high, she flounders, “I mean, with all the company’s been through, all that you’ve been through, I’m sure you know, she, yeah no she was fine.” This gives Peter reasonable pause. He decides not to press it, though, moving on to a bigger concern. 

 

“Did she say anything about me?”

 

“No,” she says too quickly, turning to face him. He looks at her, disbelieving. Her gaze shifts away. 

 

“MJ.” 

 

“It’s not important, Peter—“ 

 

“Just tell me!” It’s too loud. His voice echoes in the emptiness of her office. He takes in her stricken expression, and tries to stammer out an apology, “Sorry, I-“ 

 

“If you must know, she said she didn’t want us dating again.” Her voice is quiet, and too neutral. And he feels frozen, he doesn’t know what to say. 

 

He sticks with, “What?” 

 

“Pepper said,” she takes a deep breath, “that it was fine when we were kids to do the whole high school sweethearts thing, but it’s the real world now and she said I needed to think long and hard before,” she heaves a sigh, “before committing myself to a time bomb in red spandex.” 

 

“The suit isn’t even made of spandex—”

 

“I love how I’m talking about something serious and you—”

 

“This is a test, MJ.” Peter’s eyes are shining like the brightest moments in MJ’s memories. Those academic decathlon wins, small victories during arguments, first kisses; this is the look Peter Parker gets when he’s figured something out. 

 

But he hasn’t. “Look, Tony used to do this to me all the time. It’s a test—”

 

“Peter, it’s not a test. That doesn’t make any sense, think about it. She’s not forbidding us from dating just to see your strength of character or whatever bullshit Stark was on.” She pauses a little, wincing herself at how harshly she spoke of the man that Peter loved like a father. She didn’t have time to dwell on it, so she continued. 

 

“Pepper asked _me_ if I was going to be comfortable with the risks attached to dating you, and she would know those risks _well,_ Peter, and those risks are so high, especially now that everyone knows who you are and—“

 

“And you’re not comfortable with these risks?” Peter is quiet while his heart breaks again. 

 

“I don’t know, Peter.” 

 

It’s all a little bit too much for him and he moves to leave. 

 

“Peter, wait.”

 

He freezes, because of course he does, when it’s MJ asking. 

 

“Look we’re mature enough to talk about feelings, right?” 

 

He mumbles, “Yeah, probably.” 

 

“Okay, so let’s handle this like adults.” She walks closer to where he stands by the door, stopping just in front of him, not nearly as close as he would like her but close enough. 

 

She begins. “I’ll be upfront with you, I still have feelings for you,” his breath stops, “but… since I’m not a hormonal teenager and have developed this thing called a brain and it actually is finally louder than the hormones now and I can actually listen to it…”

 

“Uh huh.” He’s not sure where she’s going with this because evidently _his_ brain isn’t loud enough right now, not after he’s heard that she still has feelings for him…

 

“So what my brain is telling me is, huh, it’s probably awkward to date your coworker, and given your line of work, very likely dangerous.” He doesn’t like where this is going. 

 

“Right…”

 

“What I’m trying to say, Peter, is let’s just be friends again.” 

 

He is crushed, she can read it plainly on his face. 

 

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, MJ,” he’s still stuck on _dangerous_. She’s right. It had still been dangerous when they dated in high school. But he’d always kept her out of harm’s way, nearly always. There were maybe a few close calls. 

 

“That’s exactly the problem, Peter. You’re in the big leagues now. A full-blown Avenger. The last thing you need is me distracting you. You can’t spend all your time rescuing me, you have literally bigger aliens to fry!” 

 

“I can do both,” he counters weakly. 

 

MJ feels her heart breaking. She, without even meaning to, reaches out to hold the side of Peter’s face. He leans into her touch, magnetically. This is going to be a problem, she realizes. 

 

“Peter, you know I never said it but I appreciated every time you saved my life all those years ago. I felt so much better knowing you were there to watch out for me.” she says. Peter moves closer to her which makes her pulse faster, nearly audible. 

 

“But,” his eyes close as she says this, as he had anticipated. 

 

“It’s different now. I’m looking out for you. Albeit, I’m doing that from behind a desk and I’m not actually kicking ass and saving lives but I’ve never really had that flair for the dramatic like you.” 

 

“It’s not different, MJ, I still feel the same.” 

 

“It’s different for me Peter, okay? I’m not like you. I can’t be in a relationship with you when it’s my job to watch you risk your life.” 

 

“I’m kind of regretting getting you this job.” 

 

“I’m kind of regretting taking it.” 

 

They both sigh, their hearts aching. MJ watches Peter who won’t look at her back. 

 

“Can we just try at least?” MJ finally says. 

 

“Try what?”

 

“Try and let reason rule over our emotions for once in our lives?”

 

He looks unhappy. But when he sees the hopefulness in MJ’s eyes, he sees desperation behind that look too. So he agrees. Because he’s never really been able to say no to her. He suspects that will become an issue in their working relationship. 

 

“Will you still get dinner with me tonight?”

 

“Yes, but it’s _just_ dinner this time.” 

 

Somehow, as miserable as everything MJ said has been, this is possibly the worst of it. 

 

\- 

 

To her credit, MJ is remarkably cool under pressure. And when that pressure is seeing the boy she definitely still loves (no matter how hard she tries to deny it) being beaten to an inch of his life. It’s frankly a miracle she’s still stringing full sentences together. 

 

This is day one of their trial run.

 

She tries not to flinch too much when Peter is literally thrown from the top of a crate that basically reaches the ceiling of this giant airplane hangar he’s in. The latest unknown tentacled villain he’s fighting reaches for Peter again, but even from the ground he webs the guy in place at the last minute, just skirting out of reach of the blast of the villain’s weapon. 

 

She controls her breathing. 

 

“You’ve got this Peter, I just need you to get to the exit now, it’s on the opposite wall to your left” 

 

“You know, MJ, you don’t have to do the same stuff Karen does, she’s getting kind of upset about it.” 

 

“Listen, in my defence, my contract was very unclear about what exactly I was supposed to do.” 

 

“For the millionth time,” Peter says, suddenly dodging another blast on his way to the exit, “you’re tactical support _before_ missions, aka, you plan them.”

 

“I also see them through!”

 

“You added that part, I swear!”

 

“Well I swear I didn’t.”

 

“I think you’re lying.”

 

“Well then, take it up with Pepper!”

 

“I think I will!”

 

“You piece of shit—Oh wait, Peter, look out!”

 

The building was falling down.

 

“Part of the roof is falling in behind you, get out of there, now!”

 

“I’m going as fast as I can, I just—”

 

The video feed suddenly goes black. All she can hear is crashing in her audio feed. MJ’s heart leaps to her throat. 

 

“Peter?! Peter?!” She yells into her microphone frantically. 

 

“I’m okay,” he manages weakly.

 

“Did you get out of the building? What happened to your mask, my feed is gone.” 

 

Now the audio was being spotty too. 

 

“Mask felt suffocating—throw it away— building collapsed— got out— leg trapped.”

 

“I’m sending help to come get you,” MJ furiously typed in commands at her computer. “You are coming straight to the infirmary when you get back here, okay, do not pass go, do not collect $200.”

 

“Thanks MJ,” she hears his laboured breathing. 

 

“Peter, you’re going to be alright, just breathe.” 

 

When he gets to the infirmary and no one notifies her, she is ready to fire half of the emergency response team at the Avengers compound. She storms to the infirmary leaving scared employees in her wake, most of whom have forgotten she just started here. She has rapidly assumed her position at the top of the pecking order. 

 

She flags down a terrified nurse, “I need to see Peter Parker, which room is he in?”

 

“He’s resting in 3B, um, I’m not sure he’s quite ready for visitors, you should let him rest—”

 

“I’m going to do just that, Nurse. _Inside.”_

 

MJ pushes past her in her urgency and skids to a halt in front of Peter’s room. He doesn’t look too bad apart from his leg, coated in a cast, slightly raised on his bed. With his healing factor, it should be okay within 24 hours, or so it says on his chart. But he’s lying there, asleep, his hair still full of dust, and bruises splattered across his chest. 

 

MJ tries to breathe. This was part of the deal. She knew this was coming again when she signed on. She had missed every part of Peter except for this. She can’t even think about how many times it was her and May watching him like this. 

 

Quelling that familiar anxiety and sorrow deep down in her chest, MJ slowly opens the door. She silently takes a seat at the foot of Peter’s bed. His sleep is thankfully undisturbed. MJ buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking from the effort of tamping down her sobs. 

 

About an hour later, she thinks she hears him stir. Still rooted in her spot at the end of his bed, she looks up at him, furtively wiping away any residual tears from beneath her eyes. 

 

He notices her hands streaked with mascara when he holds them, looking up at her, he sees that she is falsely cheerful. He rubs his thumb in soft circles on her palm. 

 

“Rise and shine,” she grins for his benefit. 

 

“How long have you been here?” he asks, his voice gravelly with sleep.

 

“Long enough. How are you doing, tiger?” 

 

He feels his face flush, and maybe he’s loopy from the painkillers, but impossibly fondly he says, “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

 

“I guess I haven’t,” she replies noncommittally. 

 

“I’ve… felt better, to uh, answer your question.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Her grip grows tighter. 

 

“Not your fault, you were doing Karen’s job.”

 

“Not Karen’s fault either.”

 

“Nope, just mine.”

 

“Hey look, can I get you anything, some water or your comics? Or a real book, maybe?”

 

He laughs a little, “No, I think they have nurses for that.” 

 

“So what can I do?”

 

“You could come here.”

 

“Peter.”

 

“No, not like that. I mean just lie here with me.”

 

She hesitates. 

 

“Like you used to,” he adds, breaking her heart. 

 

She loses her resolve, and slides over to his uninjured side, where he wraps his arm around her. She is enveloped by his warmth, and can’t help but bury her face in the space between his shoulder and his neck. 

 

He bids his heart calm down, but her lips resting on his bare shoulder, her hands resting on his bare chest, are all sending volts of electricity through his system, and he’s not sure he’s felt this warm ever since— well, ever since he lost her that first time. 

 

It would be the easiest thing in the world to tip her chin up, lean down, and kiss her. It is the only thing in the world he wants to do. But he can’t. Respecting her wishes is more important than all of that. 

 

He sighs, his heart aching, but his brain refusing to let him feel stupid for loving her. 

 

-

 

After this, things run smoothly for a little while. 

 

Sure, Peter is reckless even though he’s older. Blame it on his hero complex, as MJ likes to do, or call it selflessness. The boy is quick to put himself in danger if it means getting someone else out of it. It’s the most frustrating part of MJ’s job. 

 

One day, Peter dodges a particularly large chunk of brick that is thrown right at his head. 

 

“Nice dodge, Parker,” she’ll say encouragingly into his headpiece. 

 

“Well, there’s one thing Karen can’t do is hype-man duties, I’ve got to give you props for that,” Peter says, while swinging from one building to another in pursuit of some robotic suit-clad villain.

 

“Well then, I guess I’m not stealing her job anymore.”

 

“I can confirm that she’s happy to hear it— oh crap!” Peter nearly misses his next swing. 

 

“Hey,” Peter prompts as he recovers. 

 

“What’s up”

 

“I just wanted ask you something.”

 

“Go ahead” MJ replies warily.

 

“Not that I don’t thoroughly enjoy it 99% of the time, but if we could maybe just stop flirting when I’m actually _on_ missions.” 

 

“I’m not flirting with you, you megalomaniac!”

 

“I’m just saying, it’s a little distracting!”

 

“This is workplace banter!”

 

“Whatever you wanna call it.”

 

“Ok, signing off then.”

 

“No, wait!” 

 

MJ puts him on mute, and continues to watch his progress. Without her to distract him, he webs the villain’s robotic suit until it jams and the villain falls to the ground. MJ quickly patches through backup to clean up the mess. 

 

This is the rhythm that their days fall into. It is late nights in her office going over legal accords Spider-Man has to sign. She patiently explains the international law to him, seeing absolutely nothing register on his face to show he has understood. She spends the time with him anyway, begrudgingly aware that she’s fallen for every excuse he’s ever made. 

 

One night, he’s particularly drained after an Avengers mission overseas. It’s a combination of jetlag and also the pure exhaustion that must come of having fought an alien ten times one’s own size. But he comes to one of their late night sessions again. This time, they’re in MJ’s apartment, because he insisted they meet, and she’s not entirely inconsiderate. She knows to accommodate a tired friend. 

 

The session is a mess though, he’s been through half her black teas and still can barely keep his head upright. To be fair, the dry legalese he’s reading isn’t making it any easier.

 

“Peter,” MJ says softly, as she watches his head loll forward, streaking blue highlighter across his cheekbone.

 

“Hmm?” he intones, eyes shut. 

 

“Maybe it’s time to call it a night.” 

 

“Agree,” he mumbles. 

 

“Can you make your way home?”

 

He shakes his head. He yawns then, suddenly, opening his eyes and looking up. His puppy-eyes are full force despite his fatigue. 

 

“Can I crash on your couch?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” she says, worn down immediately. “Grab a pillow from my bed, I’ll just clean up here and set the couch up for you.” With that they get up.

 

He brushes awkwardly past her, walking into her bedroom. The experience is strangely intimate, even though MJ is a whole room away. He’s no stranger to her childhood bedroom, but this grown-up bedroom is entirely new to him. It strikes him as an injustice he hasn’t gotten to memorize this one too, in the early mornings, with MJ asleep on his shoulder. 

 

He tries to shake himself out of that thought. What was he in here for? Pillow, right. 

 

When MJ finds him, he’s cuddled underneath the covers of her bed, head on her pillows, fast asleep. Worse of all, she doesn’t have the heart to wake him. She resigns herself to taking the couch.

 

Then she has a dangerous thought. One that can only be provoked by a phenomenon of what must be some kind of contagious exhaustion. 

 

She climbs into the other side of the bed with him. She falls asleep almost instantly as her head hits the pillow, only briefly registering the warmth of his arm coming around to circle her waist. She sighs, fading into the most comfortable sleep she’s had in recent memory. 

 

They wake up completely entangled with one another. Her leg is thrown over his waist, his arms wrapped loosely around her torso, his head buried in her shoulder. Half awake, she finds her hand coming up to idly stroke his hair. When she realizes what she’s doing, who she’s doing it with, and what this must look like, her eyes shoot open, sleep immediately disappearing. 

 

Her hand freezes from where it’s buried in Peter’s hair. She looks down to where his face is now nestled against her chest. He looks so at peace, it would almost be a shame to wake him. Besides, friends can cuddle and nap together. 

 

She would be fine with that logic, however, if not for this distinct warm feeling (better known as _arousal)_ pooling in her stomach. She can feel every point of contact between them, her skin almost burning where they touch. 

 

Slowly, trying her best not to wake him, MJ begins the process of disentangling her limbs from his. But this caused him to stir, and to wake up, with a start. 

 

He gasps, and quickly shifts back pulling his arms to himself. MJ sits up on her side of the bed. Peter gets off the bed entirely and stands on the edge, looking at MJ in panic.

 

“Uh,” is all he can muster, he glances at her nervously, running his hands through his sleep-tousled hair. 

 

“Good morning,” she supplies awkwardly. 

 

“That was— I thought—”

 

“We sure were tired last night.” 

 

“Did anything…?”

 

“Crazy how I sent you in here to get a pillow and…”

 

He has the decency to look embarrassed, “I guess I fell asleep.”

 

“Look, don't worry about it. It was innocent, we’re friends.”

 

Peter isn't looking at her anymore, rather, he's still trying to comb through his hair, an annoyed or nervous tick rather than any successful attempt to tame it. “Stupid…” he is muttering. 

 

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m not upset or anything—”

 

“I think tonight was the first good night of sleep I’ve had in months,” he says quietly. 

 

A sympathetic feeling blooms in MJ’s chest, but suddenly she feels indignant. She’s not some kind of personal healing force for Peter. 

 

“Peter you can’t guilt me into changing the way I feel about this.”

 

"That's not what I'm trying to do."

 

Oh Peter, always well meaning but frustratingly ignorant. 

 

“Don’t you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do? Making all these excuses to see me? The flirting? You’re not subtle, Parker.”

 

Peter looks away. There is a long, awful silence that stretches out between them. Finally, he’s the first to speak. 

 

“MJ, look, I’m sorry for making this awkward. I’m not… very good at this.”

 

MJ looks up at him, he looks more tired than she’s remembered seeing him in a long time. She takes a breath to speak again, but he raises his hand both to stop her and to wave goodbye. He takes off down her hallway and before she can say anything else she hears the door to her apartment slam closed. 

 

Things at work are a little tenser now. Peter stops making those little excuses to see her. She misses it, she misses him.And she had known she would miss it, which is why she let them go on for as long as they did. 

 

MJ doesn't tune in for his missions as much. But she still gets to go see him in the infirmary when his suit is blistering from alien chemical burns, and he’s bleeding and bruised. She gets to worry about him from behind a pane of glass, no longer needing to tend to his injuries like she did when they were kids and he stumbled, in pain, through her window. No more did she have to forgo sleep, book and first aid kit in hand. 

 

She supposes that’s a perk of the job. 

 

-

 

She'll say though that an actual perk of the job is getting closer with Pepper Potts. MJ hasn’t really had too many female role models before, so Pepper is a welcome addition to her life. Sometimes she tries a little bit too hard to impress her. She had tried to bring her coffee a few mornings in a row, getting her order wrong each time. 

 

“Listen,” Pepper had said, the fifth time MJ had brought back an inedible concoction of caffeine and sugar, “this line of work isn’t really suited to you.”

 

“What?” MJ had asked, panicked for a second.

 

“Unpaid Interning? Assistantship? That’s not what you do here. You’ve skipped to the big leagues, Michelle, act like it.” 

 

At that MJ had broken into a grin. 

 

After that whole incident, MJ was pleased to note she started understanding Pepper a lot better. They were a lot alike, they worked the same way. She guesses she is for Peter what Pepper once was for Tony, but different because they’re wildly different jobs, wildly different dynamics, and MJ would sooner die than ever assist Peter with anything. But Pepper understands MJ better than most, MJ learns. They’ve both been in the same position of loving a reckless superhero. MJ likes to think, though, that she’s never been in it quite so deep. 

 

When MJ thinks about herself akin to Pepper, MJ thinks about losing Peter, and she’s not very good at handling that thought. And it’s not like Pepper is setting any example for what MJ would be like in that situation, impossibly strong, resilient, and absurdly supportive of MJ, especially when it concerns Peter.

 

“Chin up, MJ,” she’ll say when they pass each other in the hallways.

 

MJ will flash her a grateful smile each time. 

 

Both being busy women, they usually eat their lunches in their offices while they work, but there will be some slow days when MJ comes knocking at Pepper’s door and they order their lunches together. They sit and chat, usually about nothing, sometimes about work. 

 

“Yeah, the updated software on the computers is not doing it for me. I did not have to call IT nearly this much with the old stuff and honestly, I think they’re starting to get the wrong idea about me,” MJ complains one day over salads. 

 

“Well, your degree was in literature, not computer science, am I wrong?”

 

MJ grins, “You are wrong. It was in both.”

 

“How do I always forget the Stanford years?”

 

“My resume seems like a brag after a certain point, you know?” 

 

Pepper gives her a wry smile. 

 

“How long do you think you’ll last at Stark?” Pepper has taken to asking MJ this question every once in a while. Before, it used to throw her off guard. But they’re joking around now. 

 

So MJ replies, “If Peter had a say, I’d be handing in my two weeks notice tomorrow.” 

 

“Doesn’t he? Have a say in all of this?”

 

“What?” now she’s sputtering again, “He has nothing to do with this, it’s not like that anymore.”

 

“You know, when I said what I did I wasn’t banning you from dating him.”

 

“I know, and I still think you should have. Why wasn’t it in my contract?” She nearly whines. 

 

Theres a long pause. Pepper makes a face like she’s in pain. 

 

“You know, you’re breaking his heart—”

 

MJ snaps, “You were the one who told me that that’s what happens, in this profession there are risks—”

 

“And I stand by that. It’s just…” she trails off, looking out her large window into the grey afternoon. 

 

She’s got that distant look on her face again. 

 

“It’s just what?”

 

“Well, have you seen him? He’s still crazy about you. It’s killing him.”

 

MJ suddenly can’t take another bite of her salad. Undeniable guilt is expanding in her chest at the thought. 

 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt him, I was trying to set boundaries.”

 

Pepper looks at her, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. 

 

“We work together,” MJ adds, weakly. 

 

“It’s not always that bad,” Pepper says softly, staring down at her hands. “Sometimes you can make it work. The superhero thing.”

 

“Maybe,” MJ says noncommittally, poking at her food. Pepper moves to clean up her salad container first, and MJ follows suit, exiting quickly down the hallway, back to her office, lost in thought.

 

_-_

 

Days later, MJ finds herself at Ned’s sprawling home in the suburbs of New York City. It’s beautifully furnished (credit to his genius architect wife Betty Brant who hadn’t spared Ned a second glance in high school, but the two had reconnected at Berkeley and the rest was history), with little hints of Ned still shining through like a platinum Millennium Falcon figure on his mantlepiece. There are framed photographs of Ned and Betty and their two year old son. 

 

MJ sighs, jealous of this life that Ned has created for himself. Not that MJ thinks she’s ready to settle down quite yet, and she’s definitely not thinking about _kids_ right now, but there’s a sort of comfort to Ned’s life that she longs for. 

 

She doesn’t imagine she’ll get it anytime soon. Certainly not with Peter being the way he is. Not that Peter is exactly who she pictures ending up with. But come on. He’s always going to be some annoyance in her life. At least, she hopes. 

 

In any case, he’s their topic of discussion right now. 

 

“No, Ned, there’s no laser component to his suit at all! There’s no way to add one!”

 

“Oh come on, you could hack any file in Stark’s office and find a way to add one. He deserves it!”

 

“He certainly does not.” 

 

“I would have given it to him. Had I the power to do so.”

 

“Oh not this again.”

 

“Oh, what you don’t want me complaining you’re the guy in the chair now even though I had dibs first? That was my dream job, MJ!” 

 

“Ah yes, how fortunate I am compared to you, Ned. You’ve got a beautiful family and a sprawling home in the New York suburbs. Me? I’ve got a fucking chair.” 

 

“A chair at _Stark Industries_ is not just any chair.” 

 

“I could say the same of _S.H.I.E.L.D.,_ Ned.” 

 

“Okay, whatever, we both did pretty well for ourselves.”

 

“I’d say so.” 

 

“What’s taking Peter so long, I assumed you’d have come together?” 

 

“We wouldn’t have.” 

 

“Oh. Yikes.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So is it like… amicable exes?” 

 

“We’re working on the amicable part.”

 

“Oh no.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

 

“It never came up!”

 

“Yeah because I didn’t _know!_ I just assumed— I would never have invited the both of you to dinner together!”

 

“We’re being mature about it, Ned, I don’t see what the problem is here!”

 

“The problem is that my entire evening is going to be the endless torture of awkward silences, longing looks, and fuck, probably even _footsie_ from the two of you! God! Adult footsie, can you imagine!”

 

“Ned we’re not going to play _adult footsie_ that’s not even a thing!” She’s laughing now.

 

“You think this is funny? You two are the most exhausting people I have ever had to deal with in my life, and I am currently raising a human child!”

 

And as if on cue, Peter rings the doorbell.

 

“Keep your feet to yourself!” Ned warns as he goes to unlock the door. MJ leans over on his granite kitchen island. She sneaks a piece of the adobo beef while he’s distracted at the door. The boys are embracing, doing their weird little handshake which makes MJ roll her eyes. 

 

Peter pauses for way too long when he finally sees her. Somewhere over the din of his own panicked thoughts he hears Ned nervously apologizing for not knowing he and MJ were still broken up, but he can’t focus on that now given the way that MJ _looks_. 

 

She’s bent-over, reaching across the counter to steal food which means these amazing likely crafted-by-the-gods jeans she’s wearing are accentuating all of the places he feels impossibly dirty for looking. This is all probably some form of objectification that MJ would scold him for anyway. But she’s got on a bright white blouse, likely still from work, which is playing against the glowing brown of her skin. His fingers twitch, thinking about running his hands along the smooth expanse of her back.

 

“Sup, tiger?” she says, casually breaking him from his reverie. 

 

“Oh, you know… same old…”

 

“You weren’t working just now, were you?” She looks at him accusatorially, knowing that that’s exactly what he was doing. There’s a scratch on his temple that he’s done a terrible job at trying to cover up with his hair. 

 

“Really Peter?” Ned says, exasperated. 

 

“Ned, I’m so sorry for being late, it was just this report came in about another one of those—”

 

“Uh, sorry again Ned, but he’s lying,” MJ has an evil look on her face, “Reports don’t go directly to Peter, because if they did, could you imagine?” MJ and Ned shudder in unison. Peter feels indignant. 

 

“Hey!”

 

“Hey yourself, Peter, you clearly took that file from my office after I left for Ned’s and I offered to drive you with me but you said—”

 

“That that’s not exactly how we create distance.” 

 

“Whatever.” 

 

Ned pipes in, “Hey have I ever mentioned that you two are the worst friends ever?” 

 

MJ and Peter smile, glancing at each other briefly. They deserve that. 

 

“Love you too, Ned,” MJ grins, guiltily. 

 

Then Ned’s wife comes down the stairs. “I finally got the baby down to sleep,” Betty says, “Let’s eat!”

 

Ned sighs and starts bringing the dishes to the dining table. “Follow, rascals!” 

 

MJ and Peter dutifully walk after him, bumping into each other in the doorway. Peter grins, moving out of the way, “after you,” he says, smiling. MJ rolls her eyes but ducks under his arm. She feels him staring after her. 

 

“Ugh, men,” she mutters. She takes her time turning around, his eyes have a glazed-over look about them. She flips him off and turns to take her seat next to Betty. Peter quickly shuffles over and sits with Ned. The two are diagonal from each other. No chance of footsie without Ned or Betty finding out. 

 

“Dig in guys!” Ned says, and the four of them fill their plates with the steaming food, all prepared by Ned. It’s delicious and Peter, MJ, and Betty all make appreciative moans with their mouths full. Ned beams because people enjoying your food is genuinely the best feeling in the world.

 

The dinner is mostly really, really nice. They talk about endless Star War reboots and how it’s all getting to be a bit much. They talk about work at Stark and Ned gets a few resentful remarks in about having been replaced. They talk like they used to, the scene could have easily unfolded over a lunch table at Midtown High. 

 

Ned has a hearty chuckle, feeling impossibly fond in this moment, thinking hey his friends aren’t all bad.

 

Then of course, they ruin it with their drama. 

 

“So, MJ, any fun plans for this weekend?” Betty asks, innocently enough, just as they’re finishing up their meal.

 

“Mmhm. I… have a date.” 

 

This shit is really what makes Ned miss California. 

 

“You have a date?” Peter sounds shattered. 

 

“Yeah, I have a date.” MJ’s cheeks are flushed, perhaps from embarrassment, but she looks straight ahead at Peter, almost challenging him. 

 

There is a tempest of emotions swirling through Peter’s head right now. Most of them are making him feel like all the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. He supposed it would have come to this eventually but he was not prepared. He really isn’t about to stick around for details, either. 

 

“Sorry Ned, Betty, thanks for this wonderful dinner, but I have to go stop a robbery in Queens,” he manages without his voice shaking too badly. 

 

“Peter, can you please be mature about this—” he hears MJ calling after him but he’s already half out the door. 

 

“Peter!” Ned calls after him as well. He slams the door. He doesn’t mean to. He still sometimes forgets the extent of his own strength. 

 

Back at the dinner table, the three sit in stunned silence. 

 

“I’m sorry for bringing it up—” Betty begins. But Ned interrupts her. 

 

“No, honey, it’s not your fault. It’s just some nonsense these two are working out. I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in it.” At that, Ned gets up too, in a huff. 

 

MJ buries her head in her hands. This has all been too much. 

 

“Ned, Betty, I’m sorry I ruined dinner,” MJ mumbles into her hands. 

 

“MJ, look at me,” Ned commands, MJ looks up guiltily. 

 

“I’m not mad at you, okay?”

 

MJ has a hard time believing that.

 

“No matter what you think I’m not mad at you, I’m just… concerned.”

 

“That’s worse. Please be mad at me?”

 

“MJ, you need to sort this out with Peter. Those years you were gone, it took a long time for him to adjust with life without you, and I know it was hard on you too, the breakup and everything, and it was hard on the three of us as friends, but you know it was ten times harder for Peter because we were his Spider-Man support system and we took that away from him.”

 

“I know Ned, I know, but life was moving on we had to go to college, I can’t apologize for that, and I’m not trying to pull any Gatsby bullshit thinking I could ever change what happened.” 

 

“I know, MJ, but look, it’s not about the past. You’re with each other now.”

 

“Ned I can’t date him—”

 

“And you don’t have to, but you can’t treat him like your old pal just yet. You brought back all those old feelings. You think you’re not Gatsby, and you’re not literally repeating the past, but you’re bringing back how the past used to feel and you have to know it’s going to be hard for him to deal with stuff like you going on dates with other people, and this just friends farce.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Let me finish! It’s hard for him to deal with this when he’s also dealing with saving the goddamn world.”

 

MJ sighs, “Ned, I’m trying to keep distance between us to protect him.”

 

Ned looks exasperated for a moment. “Look, I don’t even wanna begin to unpack that. I’m just saying, as Peter’s best friend, this is what I know, and I’m not mad at you MJ, but I’m worried about my best friend.”

 

MJ huffs. 

 

“I’m worried about both my best friends, actually.”

 

“Thanks Ned,” she says as fondly as she can through gritted teeth, “but I’m okay, you don’t need to worry about me.”

 

“You keep telling yourself that, Old Sport.”

 

MJ rolls her eyes. But Ned lets her sleep in the guest bedroom that night, and she wakes up to his wonderful breakfast and she thinks, she’s really missed her best friends. 

 

-

 

So of course, Peter literally disappears because he’s just that big of a piece of shit. That’s what MJ tells herself at least to stop going insane from worry. 

 

But after the disaster at Ned’s, no one sees Peter, or Spider-Man for that matter, for a good two days. MJ is prepared to put out an Amber Alert. 

 

She leaves a particularly stressful day at work, because without Spider-Man, her work is decidedly more complicated. She’s already late to meet her date, but she texts him a dozen apologies and excuses. Even in his absence Peter is finding a way to sabotage her love life. 

 

But just as she exits the Stark building and makes it to her car, she realizes she’s left her car keys in her office. Rushes back up and opens the darkened room. Suddenly a voice jumps out at her. 

 

“Headed to meet your date now?” 

 

MJ nearly jumps out of her skin. “Jesus, Peter, what are you doing in my office with the fucking lights off, you creep?” She angrily flicks her lights on to find him sitting at her desk, still in his spider suit, his mask off, his hair a mess, dark shadows under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept. 

 

“Genuinely, what is wrong with you?” 

 

“Nothing at all!” he says, infuriating, “I’m just swell, how are you? Hot date tonight?” He asks again, relentless. 

 

“Could you please drop this Peter I’m really not in the mood.”

 

“Really? What are you in the mood for, just out of curiosity. Love?”

 

“Peter, no one has seen you for 48 fucking hours and you have the audacity to lurk in my office and nearly give me a heart attack?”

 

“We’re not talking about that right now, MJ. We’re discussing your _date_.”

 

“We’re actually not discussing anything right now because I don’t negotiate with _lunatics_.”

 

“I’m the lunatic? Really?”

 

“All signs would point to yes, genius.” 

 

“Oh and all signs don’t tell you that if you’re clearly still in love with me and I’m clearly still in love with you we should just not be fucking stupid and just fucking be together?!”

 

MJ falls silent. 

 

“Get out of my office.” 

 

She shuts off the light and turns away.

 

“MJ!” he calls, his voice hoarse from yelling, “Michelle!” 

 

MJ catches her breath in the cool night air when she exits the building. She is breathing heavily, trying to keep herself from crying. Her breath is clouding around her. She glances back at the building where Peter is likely to end up doing something reckless while she’s out on her date, and really she should just go back in and calm him down before she goes, or postpone the date entirely and— wait, no. 

 

They’re broken up. And they’re mature adults who are trying to be friends.

 

So why does she feel the need to go back in there? Ned’s words flash through her mind. She shakes them away, refusing to be beholden to Peter’s feelings. 

 

“Peter is an adult, and he can calm himself down. If not. Then too bad,” she says to herself. She resolutely walks to her car and drives to the restaurant to meet her date. There’s a lump in her throat the whole way there. She doesn't stop thinking about Peter. She sighs, disbelieving of the sheer amount of bullshit she’s gotten into.

 

-

 

MJ wakes up suddenly. She’s in a dingy basement because _of course_ that’s where this night was going to end up. Her hands are tied with thick rope. Her head seems to be bleeding, but it's just from scratches. 

 

She doesn’t remember much, but slowly it comes back. 

 

Meeting her date in the restaurant, and he had seemed nice enough. His name was? Harold? Hamish? She can’t remember for the thick haze in her head. The only thing she remembers next is getting up to go to the bathroom. Then, chloroform. Then, waking up here. 

 

Oh shit, Herbert or whatever was going to think she stood him up! And, she guesses, worse than that, she is kidnapped somewhere!

 

Thinking quickly she looks around. Her bag isn’t with her, so her phone is gone. There goes calling for help via traditional means. But, she doesn’t work at Stark to not be outfitted with all his safety tech. Her hand runs along the hem of her work blouse. (Thank god she hadn’t had time to change before her date). She finds the small communication device. It is only connected to one number, her designated superhero. 

 

She presses the comm to begin to operate it, holding it up to her ear. She hears ringing. Her heart leaps into her throat. 

 

“Shit shit shit shit,” it goes to voicemail, she whispers tersely “Peter! Peter when you get this, I’m at a warehouse or something, I think, I don’t know exactly where, but I’m turning my tracker on and look I know we’re fighting and whatever but I need you to get over here _now, shit someone’s coming_ —“

 

MJ quickly drops her hands. She starts backing into a corner as the man starts approaching, slowly emerging from shadows. 

 

It’s her date. Henry? Harvey?

 

“I take it your call to Peter went to voicemail?” He asks. MJ furrows her brow.

 

“It’s a shame," he continues, “it will take him even longer for him to get here. What ever shall we do in the meantime?" 

 

Cold horror streaks through MJ’s chest. She doesn't say anything, though, knowing from experience that taunting these assholes only gives them an opportunity to hurt her before Peter gets here. She stays silent although it goes against every fibre of her being. 

 

She cowers back. 

 

“Another shame, I thought you were supposed to be feisty. Thought you might keep us entertained while we wait.”

 

“How do you know about me?”She can't help herself, she has to ask.

 

“I do my research.” 

 

“If you did your research properly you’d know I’m not his girlfriend anymore. I was on a _date_ with you!”

 

“I know, but just because you're not dating him doesn't mean he doesn’t care about you." 

 

“So I’m condemned to be picked on by two-bit super villains because I dated him once? That’s absolutely not how it works.” 

 

“You’re right. There are those he’s dated once that I wouldn’t bother with. But darling, I did my research. You're not someone he’s dated once.”

 

Terror seizes her once again, but she refuses to cry. She lets anger dominate over her other emotions. She thinks she hears a clatter in the distance. “You’re such a fucking creep,” she spits. 

  
Suddenly his foot comes up to kick her in the head. She slams against the concrete of the floor, and passes out, but not before she hears: 

 

“Finally! You show up!”

 

“MJ!”

 

Then, darkness. 

 

-

 

MJ wakes up, her vision bleary. She rubs at her eyes before she can make out Peter’s furrowed brow hovering over her. She looks around, she’s in the familiar Avenger’s infirmary, lying in the bed this time. She groans, both in pain and embarrassment. 

 

“So… I got myself kidnapped.”

 

“You sure did.” 

 

She sits up, annoyed. “Goddamn damsel in distress bullshit I signed up for with this job…” she mutters angrily. 

 

Peter laughs, shifting closer to her, but it sounds a little hollow. 

 

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks her.

 

“Apart from my absolute embarrassment at having to have been _rescued,_ I think I'll live.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“That guy was fucking creepy.” 

 

“He was,” Peter agrees. There’s a look in his eyes that tells her he doesn't want to relive it.

 

“Are _you_ okay?” she has to ask.

 

“I think I’ll survive, given that you did.” 

 

“God, Peter, don’t say stuff like that.” 

 

“Sorry. _You_ asked.” 

 

“You’re so fucking dumb.”

 

“I’m not the one who literally went on a date with a super-villain wannabe who only asked me out to get to my superhero ex-boyfriend, no, that dumbass move was all yours.” 

 

“Wow, fuck you, honestly.” 

 

“Clever.” 

 

“Given that I’m severely concussed, Peter, it’ll have to do.” 

 

“You’re not severely concussed, calm down.” 

 

“Well then, I’m definitely amnesiac and I have no idea who you are. Help! Nurse! A strange man is in my room and he won’t leave!” MJ shoves Peter weakly, he grabs onto her hands, holding them gently. 

 

“I’m trying to take care of you.”

 

“Who asked you to do that?” 

 

“I’m literally your emergency contact.” 

 

“Liar.” 

 

“Do you want to see the forms _you_ signed? Should I bring in a handwriting specialist?” 

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” 

 

“Shut _up._ ”

 

“I missed you while you were asleep, how pathetic is that?” 

 

“I hate you.”

 

“I hate you back.” 

 

Peter suddenly closes the distance between them, unable to help himself. He places his hands on either side of her face and his lips meet hers with a fierce determination. She sighs into the kiss as he deepens it, as he coaxes her mouth open. There’s an urgency that drives him, and that courses through her as well as she kisses him back. She reaches up to tangle her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer still. 

 

She feels as if there’s a defibrillator on her chest, jolting her back to life. He feels as if he’s just touched dry land after years at sea. 

 

He finally breaks the kiss, although MJ has ended up halfway sitting on Peter’s lap, and they’re both trying to catch their breath. For a long time, neither can really say anything, sarcastic or sincere. 

 

Peter realizes what he’s done. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry. I give up.”

 

“This wasn’t… it wasn’t a fight, I respect what you want and if—”

 

“I want to stop denying myself the things that I want.” 

 

“Like what?” Peter asks, like an idiot.

 

MJ kisses him. A response that even he couldn’t misinterpret. She takes her time with it, feeling him melt under her touch. She breaks the kiss after a while, resting her forehead on his. They breathe, both feeling a weight lifted off of them, like a revelation. 

 

“I don’t really hate you,” Peter, like an idiot, clarifies. 

 

“I could tell.”

 

“Do you—?”

 

“Mmhm, I make out with everyone I hate, actually.”

 

“What do you do with people you love?”

 

She groans, “What a stupid line.”

 

He grins, “I’m just messing with you.”

 

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Disappearing for two days? Hilarious joke by the way.”

 

“I’m sorry. I thought you were moving on,” he leans over to steal a quick kiss, “wasn’t ready.” 

 

“Peter,” she looks unsure, “this whole thing between us scares me so much.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“All of these feelings we feel—and as much as I hate to admit it, they’re not one sided, I feel them too—they’re so _intense_ , I can’t rationalize them.”

 

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

 

“I don’t want to be dependent on you.”

 

“You’re not.”

 

“I don’t want you to be dependent on me.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Then how do you explain this _whatever_ between us?”

 

“I believe it’s called love.” 

 

“Peter.” 

 

“Look, if we want to rationalize things, we can just state the facts. We’ve known each other for a really long time, meaning we know a lot about each other—”

 

“And despite that, we are still attracted to each other.” At that, he grins. 

 

“We work together.”

 

“You work as a superhero.” 

 

“I can’t really help that, MJ.”

 

“It complicates things.”

 

“It doesn’t have to.” 

 

MJ sighs. She’s silent for a while, thinking. “I guess people are going to use my feelings against me regardless of whether we’re together or not.”

 

“Welcome to my world.”

 

“It fucking sucks.”

 

Peter frowns, looking away. “I know…” 

 

“But,” MJ adds.

 

“But?”

 

“I suppose I’m here to stay.”

 

He feels so happy he might burst. She feels the same just looking at him. She pulls him down into a searing kiss, trying in vain to hide her smile. He feels her smile against his lips. He touches the side of her face gently, tucking errant curls behind her ear. He pulls back, touching their foreheads together. He continues idly smoothing her hair back, touching her fondly, almost reverently. 

 

“Wow I really missed that.” 

 

“Shut up, you dork,” she says affectionately, pulling him in for another kiss. Making up for lost time. 

 

“I’m kind of completely baffled at my luck right now.”

 

“Luck?”

 

“I mean what are the chances that a relationship you screw up once gets another chance?”

 

“You really thought you’d gotten rid of me for good?”

 

He shrugs. “I was afraid of that, yeah,” he admits. 

 

“Huh,” she ponders this, “Well you’re right to worry. You’re never going to do any better than me.” 

 

“Hey!”

 

“Face it, tiger, you’ve hit the jackpot.” 

 

-

 

A few days later, Peter hears a crash and a shout from the kitchen and he leaps out of bed, running to the noise without a second thought. 

 

He comes upon MJ surrounded by broken dishes, a hole in the window above the sink, and fury etched across all her features. 

 

She turns to see him and shouts again.

 

“Oh my god, why are you naked?!”

 

“I- I heard you shout and came running! Is everything okay why is everything broken?”

 

“Because dating a superhero is the most annoying goddamn thing in the world!”

 

“I don’t follow…” 

 

He tries to step closer to MJ but she waves her hands in a gesture to stop him. 

 

“First of all you’re going to slice your feet on this minefield of broken china on the floor, and second of all, put on some clothes or I’m not talking to you!”

 

“Okay, okay! You weren’t complaining about this last night,” he mutters as he sulks back to the bedroom. He returns wearing MJ’s fluffy robe and she gives him a look that could kill. He loves her like that. 

 

“Now explain to me why you destroyed the kitchen?”

 

“It’s stupid,” she whines. 

 

“I think I can handle it.”

  
There’s a pause.

 

“There was a paparazzo outside.”

 

Peter sputters, “Did he throw something into the apartment? Did you get a good look at the guy? We could report him to the—”

 

“Peter, Peter, no he didn’t throw anything inside.”

 

It takes Peter a second.

 

“You threw all of your dishes at him?”

 

“Not all at once! I just tapped the window with one of the plates really hard and he wouldn’t leave! He just wouldn’t take the hint! Finally I smashed through the window with the big pot, oh by the way I’m gonna need to go to HomeGoods later… and call the super…” she becomes lost in thought, mentally writing her shopping list with a furrow in her brow. 

 

“MJ, why did you do this?”

 

“It comes with the territory! You said it yourself.”

 

“You’ve really taken some liberties with the territory, though.” 

 

MJ rolls her eyes, carefully stepping around the broken shards finally to stand in front of Peter. 

 

“Well, what can I say? You didn’t sign up for boring or predictable when you insisted on dating me.”

 

“I know, I know.”

 

“I gave you a lot of chances to back out!”

 

“I know.”

 

“But you didn’t!”

 

“Well who returns the lottery when they win the jackpot?” 

 

A smile bursts onto her face, and it’s a better sight than watching the sunrise. 

 

“I love you, you fucking dweeb.”

 

And it’s a better sound than hearing angels sing. 

 

She grabs him by the fluffy lapels of his proffered robe and kisses him.

 

And it’s a better feeling than saving the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for the feedback on my last fic.  
> i love these children but also sometimes imagine them as foolish adults.  
> tony is implied to have died in infinity war. sorry!  
> also sorry for not naming any of the villains im a fake marvel fan, didn't wanna get any details wrong. 
> 
> title from new york by st. vincent


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